


Alone Together

by Chichuri



Category: Fringe
Genre: Angst, Doppelcest, F/F, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:10:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chichuri/pseuds/Chichuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a tragedy, Olivia finds comfort in the only person who can truly understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle IX. Prompt used: doppelcest. 

"We're both monsters."   
    
Olivia had her gun out and aimed before she even realized it was in her hand. She knew the voice, but hearing it from lungs not quite her own was always a shock.   
    
When the intruder stepped from the shadows of the kitchen Olivia recognized her by the long scar that creased the right side of her face, bisecting her eyebrow and nearly the eye then curving down and around the cheekbone. She'd met this one before, in a reality not that different from her own. This Olivia was no longer FBI, but up until a year ago they had shared a history.   
    
Olivia took a breath, then another, keeping the gun steady. Her alternate didn't move, her hands open and her arms held out at her sides. "What do you want?" Olivia asked.   
    
"They never should have trusted us," her alternate whispered, her voice cracking. "We destroy everything we touch."   
    
Olivia took a step forward. Now that she looked for it, she recognized the tracks of tears on the other woman's face, the subtle slump of shoulders held upright in an attempt to deny she was breaking. Olivia had felt it on her own body, seen it in the mirror too often to mistake it.  Lowering the gun just a little, she asked in her most gentle voice, "What happened?"   
    
Her alternate collapsed onto the couch, head bowed and hands palm to palm. "They died." She pressed her hands against her mouth. "Because of me. Peter, Astrid... They died trying to keep me safe. The shapeshifters, they came after us, and I couldn't..." She took a deep breath, blew it out. "I couldn't protect them."  The self-blame was thick in her voice, making it nearly unintelligible.   
    
Olivia looked away, not able to face the raw agony in her alternate's face. "How—" she started to ask, then shook her head. How didn't matter. The realities had diverged far enough that it was doubtful the circumstances could occur here. In fact, the very reason they had diverged made it unlikely: she and Peter had killed Thomas Newton; her alternate and her Peter had failed.   
    
Her alternate slipped Olivia a sideways glance and answered her unspoken fears. "Ambush, by Newton. Your Astrid's safe. _Peter's_ safe. Peter. God. Oh, God, I'm never going to see him again. I was selfish and I let him close and because of that—" She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering.   
    
Olivia took the risk and holstered the gun, carefully settling beside herself on the couch. "I'm sorry," she said awkwardly, her own throat tight. "Is Walter..."   
    
"Inconsolable. He doesn't want to see me and I can't face him, I can't..."   
    
Olivia nodded, wrapping an arm around the other woman. She crumpled onto Olivia's shoulder, tears tearing themselves free. Resting her cheek on her alternate's head, Olivia stroked her hair and murmured soothing words, ones she would actually believe.   
    
When the crying jag was done, her alternate drew away and scrubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I couldn't... I didn't know where to go."   
    
"It's all right. If you can't depend on yourself..." Olivia trailed off and shrugged. Her alternate's lips twisted into a lopsided smile. They both knew she didn't—both of them didn't—depend on anyone else, not if she could help it. Except for Peter, who had wormed his way under her defenses and refused to leave. Refused to let her carry her burdens alone.   
    
Peter, who her alternate had just lost.   
    
Olivia felt the tears in her own eyes, despite the fact that she knew her own Peter was alive and well as of an hour ago when she'd left the lab. She couldn't imagine losing Peter, not after losing John and Charlie. And her alternate was even closer to her Peter. Leaving the FBI had opened possibilities between them that Olivia was unwilling to consider.   
    
Unwilling to consider, but unable to get out of her head.   
    
Olivia balled her fists and hardened herself against the part of her that wanted to give in to the growing attraction between Peter and herself. If the tradeoff for never having him was not getting him killed, she would gladly accept an empty bed. She pretended she didn't already feel the misery of the lonely days stretching out ahead of her.   
    
Her alternate shook her head abruptly, sitting ramrod straight. "I shouldn't be here. I should go back."   
    
It was impulse that had Olivia reaching out and stopping her from rising. "You shouldn't be alone. Not tonight." Shouldn't be alone like she always was before, like she always would be again.   
    
"Is that an invitation?" her alternate quipped back shakily, then her eyes widened.  They stared at each other as what had been meant as an offhand joke took on a weight it had never been meant to bear. So lonely, each of them, and sitting next to them was the one person who could really _understand_.   
    
Olivia didn't know which of them moved first but hands tangled in hair and lips pressed together, first tentative, then with increasing surety.   
    
"Is this sex or masturbation?" Olivia murmured breathlessly when they parted. She couldn't decide if this was too wrong or just wrong enough.  It was good, though, so good.   
    
Her alternate snorted and shrugged, leaned forward and pressed Olivia back to the couch. "Comfort," she said. "Finding what we need in ourselves. Peter would say—" she stopped and her eyes darkened.    
    
Olivia buried any reservations, compartmentalizing them away from the here and now. She pulled her alternate down to kiss away the misery. "Peter would say that we should take what we need from the only person we really trust," she murmured into her alternate's mouth. To knowingly use each other—use _themselves_—as a temporary patch for the spaces that gaped cold and empty in their soul.   
    
And rationalization disappeared into fingernails skimming across skin, into fingers digging into muscle, into bodies restlessly seeking more, always more. Sharp nips and gentle kisses; clothing shucked aside as they stumbled from couch to wall to bed. Mouth hot and hungry, on her throat, on her breast, licking and sucking down to her inner thighs. Fingers dipping into familiar heat, moans and gasps that could have come from one throat, until she didn't know where one of them ended and the other began. They were crying with the same voice, arching as the same mindless pleasure took them to the edge and left them trembling and begging for more, keening as the edge dropped out from under them and took any rationality they had left.   
    
Sweat-soaked and sated, they curled around each other. Sleep, usually so elusive, enveloped them both.   
    
When Olivia woke she was alone, the ache of her muscles and the smell of sex on her sheets the only traces her alternate had left behind. She sighed, staring across the bed at the empty pillow until she forced herself to rise and face another day.   
 


End file.
